“I’m trapped. This is where I had died.”
Jeremy twisted his head a little to the left. Nope, that didn’t help either. Strange how anyone had written a message in such a way. At least Miranda’s pocket mirror was good for something other than checking her eyeliner every five seconds. If only it were a decent-sized one instead of the tiny thing he had to work with; such a pain trying to read the mirror image of a backwards message through something half the size of his palm. He sniffed the air, crinkled his nose. What’s that smell anyway? Like rotten lavender. Damn; it was from the letters. The more of the message appeared, the more it smelled.
“Hey, Jerry,” Miranda said, “another line appeared on the far corner, I think.”
I’m actually quite intrigued by this now. I may actually sit down and write a story about it, hehe.